Day-Tripping Daydream

I was walking into Wal-Mart recently when this little caramel and cream beauty stopped me in my tracks with an exclamation of delight.  Its owner was nowhere around as I took a quick snapshot.  (Do people still say snapshot?)  Well, I do.

Can't you just see me puttering my way through narrow streets, pulling over into the local cafe for a cup of creamy espresso and a pastry, sitting and jotting down notes for the latest novel I'm writing.  Then I'm zipping off again to the local market, chatting with the vendors as I make a few purchases of flowers, cheese, and vegetables, fastening them into the exquisitely perfect little basket in back.  I know my kids all think this is quintessential dorkiness, but I don't care.

This little moped was just made for fun!

And see?  I already have the cup (got it for myself for Christmas) ...

A Writer's Crush

I love bookstores, but I confess I rarely purchase anything there.  I can't help but look over and through the goodies set up on the various display tables.  Their jackets tempt me with the sheen from the curve of their spines, like so many multi-colored chocolates.  But to me, they smack of the follower; and as a rejector of most things trendy or faddish (even books) I resolutely move on in search of real gold.  Don't you know that treasure by very definition is almost always hidden?

Blue Like Jazz was one of those books I'd flicked through and passed.  Sure enough, I felt vindicated when my sons (who all read the book) told me that it was not all that solid and I really wouldn't have liked it.  Later on, however, D was kicked back on the couch reading A Million Miles In A Thousand Years and I asked how he was liking it.  Same author, Donald Miller, but this book was different and he definitely thought we would be a match.

Heaven help me, I have a writer crush.  Yes! There I am, responding with unabashed oozing over this book, in a way that is usually reserved only for the writings of people like my big sister, Elisabeth (Elliot, of course.  Who I also steered clear of for years so as to avoid falling into the possibility of becoming a "groupie," as was everyone else from whom I'd ever heard her name.  But Elisabeth won my heart straight away, there is simply no question.)  Donald is more like my big, little nephew.  As D says, he is just so sincere; and a man in the palm of God's hand who transparently strives for earnest candor, inspires me, has a voice, plus can be funny to boot - I've just discovered family.

So with a big ol' swoony sigh, I place the Storyline Conference in the box.  Oh, yeah - did you think I was just going to put the book in there?  This carton is for serious fantasies.

Shared with Petals to Picots

Watermelon Loafers

I've been saving these little cuties to throw into my box of empty pretties for quite some time.  I have absolutely NO idea what they'd go with... but I just love them!

Ok, I actually do know exactly what I'd pair them with, although I'm sure my suggestion will induce eye rolls galore.  I also happen to love overalls.  Put me in a white tee, denim overalls rolled up a bit, and these watermelon tennies, and call me Spring.  

I've had a love affair with quirky shoes that aren't the run-of-the-mill-wear ever since I began buying my own clothes with my babysitting money.  The thing is... well, have you ever had a penchant for something that even you find a bit embarrassing?  My taste in shoes is something like that.  I pick up a pair with an unabashed coo of delight - and realize they look like something a hobbit would wear - and yet (gulp) that's my style! 

When my Dad retired from the Navy, we wound up settling in New Mexico.  I'd had my heart set on the Pacific Northwest with a view of the blue-grey ocean and the greens of maples, spruce, and alder trees; the charm of red mesas took a long time in captivating me.  Durango, Colorado was less than an hour away, however, and my little earth muffin heart found sweet comfort within its quaint, hippie atmosphere.  One high school shoe purchase was made in one of those offbeat, whimsical stores on Main Street during a weekend run up to Durango.  I recall with fondness a soft sort of desert boot of unique design, trimmed at the ankles in fur.  I sat in my English class, quite content with my quiet individuality.  The hick sitting nearby gave me the once over.  "Step on a rabbit on your way to school today?"  Redneck humor - so devastatingly clever.  

Anyway, I survived that petty belittlement with nothing but a clearly lasting memory of it thirty years later.  And I still adore funky, unconventional, comfort-driven footwear.  

I just can't help myself.

J.J. Heller

Christmas has passed, and I hope that you all had a sweetly blessed time celebrating with family and friends.  I had intended to get a CD by this artist for Christmas - no biggie that I didn't.  However, this morning I went online to check on an order status, and began listening to the snippets of song samples available.  Shades of Alice following the White Rabbit!  Isn't that the way it goes once we begin internet surfing?  I went further by looking at this young woman's website and found this wonderful boxed set.  A set of five CDs for $44 plus free shipping.  Apparently, on one of the CDs there are only five songs, but they are all Christmas songs, and after listening to them, I was captured.  For those of you looking for music that turns your daughters hearts toward worship, I offer this for your consideration.

I bought it this morning.  J.J. Heller is folksy and lyrical (like some other popular artists out there today), but with messages overflowing in relationship with the Lord.  I'm looking forward to bringing them out one at a time in the coming year and listening to them with my girls - if I can bear to pace myself.  http://www.jjheller.com/store.asp

And look, she has a "real woman" blog as well.... http://thelovelylittlethings.blogspot.com/

Picture This

This is a little something for me.  It's only $20, so its certainly something I could actually get for myself in real life.  I put it into my empty box of pretties because of what it represents to me, more than for the exact contents - which are still unknown to me at this point.  Creativity and time and a unique representation of yourself drawn from within, exiting my means of your hand, onto paper, in words and pictures without overbearing self-consciousness.  This book is Lynda.  What would the cover of my book look like?  And what would fill its pages?

What I Want To Be In My Other Life When I Grow Up

I only went to community college for a year or so, and never yearned for more. Once, when sitting and reminiscing about our youth with a few friends, I realized that I was the only one who didn't have a hankering to go back to college days. Could be that I just didn't know what I was missing. But that had never been what I wanted. I always had dreamt of being a Mom, and as hard as reality may have crashed up against the dream at times, in my heart of hearts it still was what I wanted. I'm one of those fortunate few who actually got to do what I love.

But a few years ago I was watching a movie with my kids and I saw somebody doing something that made me cry out with surprise, "he has my dream job!" It was Dan In Real Life. (I never could see what he saw in her, so that was an empty spot, but there are some really, really funny scenes in this movie.) Anyway, there he was. He was working from home as the voice of sanity in an advice column on parenting. The setting, the marriage of my two loves - being a parent and writing; draped over the couch, I sighed with true longing.

Well as amazing as that was, imagine my surprise at discovering another occupation I covet as well. While riding my recumbent bike I watch episodes of the show Lie To Me and wish I could be working with Cal Lightman, learning the tricks of the trade alongside him. He is a master at reading face and body language, and the truth or lie cannot escape his keen detection. I was a dedicated liar myself, up to a certain age. But let's not go into past history right now. Perhaps its true that we hate most those sins we have held closest to ourselves. Sitting around the dinner table with my family the other night, I shared my fantasy aspirations to become a human lie detector. My girls are quite grateful that my already delicately honed skills of perception have no further school in which to be perfected. I'd have felt the same when I was their ages, I suppose. Lucky for them Cal is imaginary.

I guess I'll just have to do my best to combine what I can into this life. That's a pretty good option, actually.

My Dream-Cycle

Well, my kids have probably wondered why it has taken me so long to blog on my number one inanimate object of wistfulness. I guess it's because if I put it into the box, it might mean I will never get it in real life. But as of yesterday's "pretty", I suppose I've shown that that's not necessarily the case.

I half-mock myself by mentioning how I am saving up for "my bike." Every time I have gotten a noteworthy amount saved up in my piggy bank.... Yes, I have an actual piggy bank - it belonged to the boys when they were little. They pulled out the black plug years ago, but other than that it is perfectly serviceable. So it now lives on its back in my armoire where it patiently waits for me to put all spare change into the gaping hole in its pink belly.

Anyway, the money always seems to go to something for my kids. Swim lessons, shoes, books. I have wondered if I have a self-defeating martyrdom complex going on which succeeds in my never attaining my bike. And I can't quite make up my mind which one it would be. Even now, I'm not sure if it's this one exactly. I peruse Electra's and Trek's websites, toggling back and forth, reading reviews and looking for the sales that never are. Cream, green, or pink? A leather seat? Definitely has to have a basket. This would put me back a pretty piece of change, and the ever practical me always imagines as I consider this purchase. How sick would I be to come out of the grocery store to find such an expensive treasure stolen? Do you ever think of things like that?

This is a complete indulgence, plain and simple. I can talk about how I'd use it for grocery shopping and get all this exercise and blah, blah, blah. The plain and simple truth is that I just adore the quaint, practical, beauty of these bikes and they make me feel more like Corrie Ten Boom, Elisabeth Elliot, and the little girl I once was.

If I ever bring you home, I'll take a pic and show everyone. But for today, I'll carefully, lovingly, and longingly place you gently into my box. I can almost hear the trill of your bell.

The Open Road Is In My Mind

Today is dragging by.....

I woke up early and wanted to DO something with my day. M left in the grey morning light for his prison ministry - how I admire his love and dedication to this calling. I considered heading out to a Farmer's Market. I've wanted to do that all summer long, but haven't been able to due to one thing or another. Then I remembered that with our recent list of changes, the girls are allowed to sleep in on Saturday mornings and hang out in their jammies all day if they like. So, I decided to let them have the lead in tailoring the day.

I had a few other ideas, just in case they ran short of them. One was to take a drive up north and check out Mayberry. How could we live so close and never visit it? We could also try our hand at canning some of our tomatoes from our finally bountiful garden. And I pulled up several recipes to choose from or pick and combine for homemade granola bars. But my girls seem to already have plans. It's going to be a day of hanging out with neighborhood girls, chatting and visiting, working on costumes for their future "movie"... typical childhood imaginative play.

So, I have busied myself the mundane work of lone productivity. Cleaning a very dirty kitchen floor and feeling the satisfaction of bare feet upon it; toying with and declining making granola bars myself, seems rather useless today; doing a few loads of laundry, a task I have assigned my children over the years, but now find joy in doing once again as three of the five are out and about in the world now; pulling steaks out of the freezer for tonight's dinner; and getting started on the drying of tomatoes for a first foray into the world of preserving. I'll give the girls a few more good hours before we head out for tonight's movie pick at Redbox.

This could be a daily wash post, but I've been feeling rather speculative lately. So I'll place this in my box of empty pretties. Today, my desires are for wide open spaces, freedom from cares, and the open canvas of endless possibilities. Our wishes and our realities don't always match, but that doesn't mean we stop dreaming.

Volkswagon... Take Me Away

Long, long ago, in the carefree lands of childhood, there lived a little girl. She didn't know what conservative was, but she understood patriotism; she hadn't heard of the virtue of modesty, but she knew she should be comfortable in her own skin. Her dreams of what she would be when she grew up consisted of all manner of fascinating careers to be seen on evening variety shows - ventriloquists, trapeze artists, magicians, and go-go dancers. She also dreamt of being the Mom of five, and through her own experience of Calvert fourth grade thought homeschooling was cool, but knights on horses and traveling through time were still just as plausible possibilities. The secret of flying was just out of reach, but it might still be there when she woke up one of those times.....

Of course, I was that little girl. My favorite color was psychadelic, I loved mastering tongue twisters, and I was positive I could see my future - I would look just like the model in the J.C. Penny catalogue. Some things we envision as children never come to pass and we must reconcile ourselves to the facts and be content - I never grew tall and leggy like the Penny's model, but I did get a big, toothy smile. Some things are even better than we'd imagined - my husband and children and our life of learning carries echoes of my own childhood as well as greater richness with each year's experiences. And some remain dreams, sweet and distant reminders of all that we thought could be, and hope for a promise of overflowing fulfillment. I've got a Volkswagon van on my list of heavenly joys to be relished in when I get to glory.

Make mine psychedelic....

Monkey Magnet

If you have kids, or are somebody's kid, you know what it's like to see yourself in someone else, or the reflections family cast upon eachother. My son Q's mix of emotionalism and logic is a carbon copy of his Papa. Within the first day of receiving my daughter, A, I saw both the artistic and the bold side in her that echoed the child Me. R's march to his own drumbeat is unique to himself, yet we constantly see the all-so-familiar patterns of his brothers in him. L marveled us with her unintended reproduction of D back when he was a little firecracker, even down to facial expressions of open delight that seemed cast from her brother's countenance.

And there are times when I just have to turn to my husband after one of our children behaves in a way that mystifies him, and say, "I'm sorry." My genes, my influence.... rising up beyond my power or control, I see a visage of myself in them - usually maddening or perplexing my patient Love.  
And with such sweet knowing of one another, sharing shades of one another's ways, comes the unique opportunity to play as only family can. With my boys, this sometimes shows up in needling me up to the line from time to time. You know that line that says, "This far and no farther - beyond this place there be Dragons - or at least a Mama you don't want to mess with." Q goes more for shock effect, laughing at my no-nonsense responses as I push back (usually without any real cleverness); D likes to "noodge" me with exasperating phrases like 'hip-hop' and 'whatever'; Ro's ventures show up more in daring antics that border on the foolhardy - like matches getting too close. My suspicion is that underneath it all, they are grateful there is a line for their hippie mother turned sold-out follower of The Way.

This little "pretty" is also for D.

His search for a balance between boundaries and freedom sounds an answering quest within my own soul. The magnet is a wry, wacky poke at the struggle.  Remember that into each day He brings us something to smile at.  It could be something goofy like this, or a sunset, or the thoughtfulness of others, or the opportunity to do good.  The Word is a gift that never perishes or fades:

*Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything. If any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to him. But when he asks, he must believe and not doubt, because he who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind.

Christ is the answer and the power, D, always.....

*James 1:2-6

The End (Is Only The Beginning)

Well, if I just had an extra $800....

That's what it would put me back to get this absolutely perfect gift for my son, D - $750 for the book, $50 for shipping. I was looking at a few back issues of NPR's The Picture Show when I was introduced to Rodney Smith. The connection in my mind between D and this fellow was instantaneous.

When the boys were younger, I discovered Chris Van Allsberg's wonderful The Mysteries of Harris Burdick in our local library. I used his fantastic mysterious drawings as springboards for the boys to create their own stories. His drawings left so much to the imagination while at the same time providing fodder for fancy to take flight within the mind. Even now, when I look within the book's pages I feel the tingling of creativity bubbling up.

Well, combine puzzling pictures with photography and a more mature and quirky sense of humor and you get either Rodney Smith or my son, D. It'd be a coin toss really, only Mr. Smith has beaten D to the punch and is reaping the fun, financial rewards for it. I was laughing out loud in delight at his photos - clever, whimsical, original, and I especially liked his black and white ones. I would absolutely love to get his book for my sweet boy - but there are only 1,000 autographed copies available and they are a bit too rich for this Mama's pocketbook. So into the box of empty pretties it goes.

Here's a delightful excerpt detailing his latest book:

• The Idea
• The Book
• The Details

If I could, I would pick out a few delightful choice photographs and surprise Dom with them on the walls of his room at home. So, I "pretend" gift it to you, D. Hope you like it too.

The Greed In Me

Well, just leave it to my wandering heart to go salivating after the deceptive fleeting pursuit of finding satisfaction in things as soon as I get to feeling really content. Do you ever struggle with wanting material goods or experiences or "fill in the blank" that you cannot have? And getting things doesn't slay this Dragon! I just had a new faucet installed in my kitchen today, and the new water fixtures in the kids bathroom that I purchased last summer were put in today as well. And the thing is, I'm reading numerous articles and books (not to mention His WORD) that have to do with what really is of value. No matter. My desires and lusts for other baubles in life isn't contingent upon the fact that I already have enough. It's born of a carnality that is bottomless and deep. *"but each one is tempted when, by his own evil desire, he is dragged away and enticed. Then, after desire has conceived, it gives birth to sin; and sin, when it is full-grown, gives birth to death."

When I was younger and poorer, in our early days of marriage, I read somewhere (probably the ponderous and sage wisdom found between the pages of Good Housekeeping, Ladies Home Journal, or Woman's Day) that if I just put down on paper those things that I was struggling with feelings of covetousness for - and then came back to that list two or three days later - those yearnings would probably be gone. I didn't believe it, but I put this bit of instruction to the test. Oh wicked woman that I am - I always still wanted "IT"!

The passage of time has lessened this struggle, but I can't help but wonder if that has something to do with the fact that I have so much more now. Would I be so content today if I had acquired no more in the passing years than I had 25 years ago? There's really no way of knowing, but oh how I hope so.

As I drove along today, that old bit of homespun advise popped into my head. I thought, what the heck? Go ahead and put down the things you hanker after but are too frugal or poor to purchase. Not with the expectation that this will kill the hunger within me for them, but to expose them as the empty box of pretties that they are.

First on the list is this cutie. I saw somebody with this adorable little trinket on the freeway yesterday.

*James 1:14